Overcast
by TimmyTAR
Summary: Spin-off of the Twilight saga, with a brand new set of characters, and a brand new perspective on the series, exploring different themes never explored before. Intrigued yet? Check it out here! R/R, please!
1. First Day

**Author's Note: **After getting some money for Christmas in '08, I decided to get three books: J.K. Rowling's "Beedle the Bard," Young's "The Shack," and Stephenie Meyer's "The Host." Beedle was a great fast read, and Shack was fantastic, so it's now the Host's turn. But this isn't going to be a Host fanfic. Hold on, my explanation is almost through.

[potential spoiler]After getting to the part in The Host where Wanderer and Melanie get captured by Uncle Jeb,[/spoiler] the book started to go downhill from there, and I'm struggling to have the motivation to finish it. As a little side project, I decided to revisit "Twilight," even though I constantly dog it and feel like Meyer just got lucky with writing this.

However, after reading the leaked draft of "Midnight Sun" and the beginning part of "Twilight," I realized something; the book is actually good. Sure, it's not Tolstoy or Shakespeare, but once you put that aside and just try to enjoy the book and escape to this other world, that's the important lesson.

But Tyler, you might ask, what does this mean for this new story you're writing? Why aren't you focusing on the two other stories that you have yet to finish (and yes, if you look at my bio and see my Heroes story, I'm officially ending that story)? It's simple; I got inspiration from "Twilight," and had to write it down.

So here we go. If you want to drive the plot down to a single line it's this: "A male version of Twilight." There will be different aspects to it, so if you're not liking the differences I'm making, tough. It's my story, and frankly, I'll write however I want. This story is basically how I would have written "Twilight" from the male point-of-view, that's not from the vampire's.

Hold on there, author's note is almost done. Check out my new avatar to see me trying to look sexy, i.e. possible Jasper look-alike? Not really though; I'm not really blonde enough and/or good-looking enough. Oh, well. Got the pale skin down! I hope you enjoy the story and don't take it so seriously as a seriously rabid Twilight fan might. If you get past the initial shock, then I think you will like it.

Last paragraph: I'm serious this time. I'm warning you all in advance that I don't have a lot of time to type, and I'm busy since this is my senior year in high school, so I'm going to take as full advantage of it as I can. That means less time on the computer to type, but hey, real life comes first, definitely. 'Kay, now we're starting.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Twilight or any of it's subsequent installments in the saga.

**Overcast**

01. First Day

In my dream I was dancing. Not hip-hop dancing mind you, but slow dancing in a ball room. It was weird. I had on a mask that you'd wear at a masquerade party, and the woman I was dancing with inhumanly beautiful. I know this is weird coming from a guy, but this dream could only be described as beautiful. We danced to the classical music and she laid her head on my chest, as if to hear my heartbeat. A touching moment in my dream worthy of cheesy Hallmark clothes.

But then I woke up to my annoying alarm clock, the klaxon screeching away. I hurriedly slammed the switch off and crawled out of bed, trying to delay the inevitable; getting ready for my first day as a senior in high school. A big day for any high school student, I'm sure.

Then again, I guess I wasn't a "typical" high school student. I didn't care to fit in, as evident by my bland shirts and jeans that I wore every single day. None of that American Eagle or expensive stuff like that. Just plain, boring old clothes that wouldn't be worthy of any fashion magazine, I'm sure.

Not like I read that sort of stuff.

I sighed and pulled out a brown long-sleeved shirt with a zipper near the top that went down to the middle of my chest, and a pair of dark blue jeans. Not caring whether they matched or not, I went downstairs with them and into the bathroom to get ready for school. After taking a quick shower and getting dressed, I move on to the mirror for my daily hygiene regiment.

My dark-blonde slash light-brown hair was still sort of wet from the shower, so I took a comb and successfully combed it to look passable if Harriet managed to wake up.

Harriet's my mother, and by mother, I only mean that in the pure biological sense. I know that sounds mean or cold, but that's the only way I can relate to her these days. We don't look anything like; my hair color, eyes, everything came from Jack. The only thing I might have inherited from her was the way I related to people my age. We both didn't really fit in with the crowd, which was both good and bad. Good in the sense that I'd rather be myself than homogeneous like the others, but bad in that we couldn't fit in, as much as we wanted too. Maybe that was the reason Jack and Harriet got together in that she was so different from anyone he'd ever met before.

I brushed those thoughts away and washed my face so I could avoid the inevitable teenage curse known as acne, the water splashing my pale white skin and into my father's blue-gray eyes. I dried my face and walked out of the bathroom, tiptoeing around the couch that held my sleeping mother.

Or at least I thought she was sleeping. "You're finally awake?" Harriet grumbled, rolling over.

"Yeah, just a half hour," I answered, rubbing my eyes.

"Gimme a minute and I'll take you to school," she told me but taking the blanket and covering her head with it.

"Nah, it's fine," I refused politely, concealing the fact that I'd very much not want to be seen with her driving me to school. "Just go back to sleep."

As if to spite me, she rolled off the couch and onto her feet. She slid her feet into her slippers and yawned in my face, oblivious to me still standing there. "I'll get the keys," she stumbled in her footing.

I rolled my eyes and tied on my shoes, allowing Harriet to walk past and grab the car keys. I knew she was in no mood for driving after what she had done last night, so I grabbed a granola bar I could gulp down during my first class and hurried over to her side. "Mom, I really don't think you should be driving. You have a headache?"

"How'd you know?" she slurred, holding her forehead with the hand that had the keys in them. "Ow..."

"You really need to lie down," I ordered her, trying to take charge. "It's not safe if you operate a vehicle."

"I ain't operating on nobody," she snapped at me, not making any sense at all. "But maybe I should lie down..."

"That'd be a great contribution to society," I added snidely, unnecessary. I helped her back to the couch and tucked her back in, enveloping her in the covers of the blankets.

"Good night," she hiccuped, instantly closing her eyes and falling asleep.

"Yeah, yeah," I mumbled, her not being able to hear me. I was even surprised at myself how seemingly easy that was. Usually she got pushy or violent if I got in her way.

I say these things of course, because Harriet's not like most mothers. While most go to P.T.A. meetings or soccer games, she's much rather go to bars or clubs, guzzling down any form of alcohol that she could get her hands on. She usually did this every single day, not caring about the apparent consequences they have sown for her, like the no paycheck coming in and the damage the liquor has done to her body. Her imminently cirrhosis-ailed liver or the brain-damaged cells that will never regenerate.

If only--no. I can't speak ill of Jack. It wasn't his fault what had happened.

I sighed and took the car keys, twirling them with my finger. I grabbed my backpack, got out of the house and got into our crappy, rundown red Corsica. I've had to put so much money into that stupid deathtrap that I could have bought a much nicer automobile, but it's too late. I'm stuck with it. I started the car and pulled out of the driveway and began the drive to school.

The traffic was horrible, as most opening days are. Parents eager to drop their kids off at elementary schools so they can hurry to make it to the office on time, you know, that sort of thing. Other than that major roadblock, the drive was uneventful, and soon the high school was in my sights.

The school loomed at the end of Dogwood street, looking like one of those abandoned, dilapidated, haunted houses that you'd see on one of those back roads in the country. Of course the school wasn't entirely made of rotten wood, but rather bricks. The only reason I say the school looked like a haunted house was because it looked like a face, like that house in "The Amityville Horror." The school was wide and long, and the entrance had two big windows by the sides of the doors for eyes, and the little roof above the doors for the nose. It was creepy how the building was constructed, but don't tell the architect that.

I found a spot in the parking lot in one of the further-back rows and got out to make the walk into the school. Backpack slung over my shoulder, I sighed and resigned to the fact that school was indeed back, and I only had one more year of this crap. One more year of slugging this stupid thing around, ripping and tearing. One more year of the jokes, the put-downs I've heard in the hallways about me. One more year of annoying cheerleaders, bossy teachers, and cocky jerks. Just one more year. I could make it.

The inside of the school was blistering hot in contrast to the cool September air outside, so I immediately regretted wearing that long-sleeved shirt. Great, I'll roast my butt off in here because no one knows how to work a thermostat or crack open a window. What a great way to start the day, I thought sarcastically.

I fished around in my pocket for that granola bar and the slip of paper that had my locker number and combination written on it and made that my first destination in the school year. I found it easily and took a couple tries to get the locker open, but eventually I hung it up on the hook inside and took out my folder for my first class; Calculus. I had no idea why the counselor had placed me in that class because I suck at math. It was probably just because of that stupid rule that math was required in all four years of high school.

I slammed my locker shut, though too loud for anyone to turn heads and made my way to Mr. Hammond's room for the mathematics class. As I was walking down the hallway, I noticed that some of the students were eyeing or giggling at me, and immediately looking away if I caught them in the act. I rolled my eyes and kept walking, not letting them see that it bothered me. Someone probably started another rumor, like I was gay or sent to military school. Or something, I didn't know what garbage they came up with these days.

Mr. Hammond's room was freezing cold, and I cursed inwardly at the teacher's incompetence at knowing how to work the air conditioning. I don't mean to sound rude, but frankly, this day just isn't turning out well at all. I shivered and found my name-tag that the instructor had placed on a desk close to the front but far from his desk. I must have grimaced without knowing it as Mr. Hammond looked at me and asked, "Would you prefer a different seat, student?"

I saw that his eyes were pointed to the nameless desk nearest to his and shook my head. "Not at all." Calling me student? How demeaning was that? I shouted in my head at him and sat down at my designated desk, placing my folder on top of it.

More students filed in, and I saw more looks out of the corner of their eyes on me, as if it was some covert operation to spy on me. I'm sure that wasn't true and I'm just being paranoid, but with years of experience of petty bull crap being slung at me every year, you learn what people's actions tend to mean.

They sat in their respected desks, and much to my horror, I was surrounded by preppy students. The kind that lived and breathed to get good grades in school to make Mommy and Daddy proud of them. I bit my upper lip in anxiety and the bell signalling the start of class rang. Great, the first torturous period of the day had begun.

"Good morning, students," Mr. Hammond introduced himself to the class. Mr. Hammond at one time in his life probably was the big man on campus. I could see him being the quarterback or center back in high school, but he let himself go a lot. Just from my earlier encounter with him, he was also probably the same douchebag as before, pardon my French. "I'm Mr. Hammond, and I'll be your guide in the wonderful world of Calculus."

Everyone chuckled around me while I just ignored it and began doodling in my notebook. I'd much rather do my crappy drawings of randonness than listen to this lecture. I honestly don't know when he started taking role because I was so consumed with my drawing to notice, so of course I was caught off guard when he said for the second time, "Julian Gallagher? Is that correct?"

I finally looked up and the preppy girl next to me laughed at my expense. "Yes," I answered.

"Huh, cool name," Mr. Hammond said kindly, though in a way that you can tell that he wasn't being genuine. "All right if I call you Jules or Julia?"

The class got a big kick out of that and I sank deep in my chair, my cheeks beginning to blush. "Just kidding with ya, Jules," Mr. Hammond joked around. "All in good fun, right?"

"Right," I laughed along lamely.

I hate this class already with a passion, and I hadn't even flunked a test yet.

After that humiliating episode, the class dragged on and on. Mr. Hammond continued his lecture on classroom procedures, but luckily gave us just enough time for a pop quiz. On the first day? Really? For fear of more embarrassment, I shut my mouth and bombed the quiz before the bell rang to signify changing time. I gathered my folders and shot out of the classroom, not wanting to see that teacher's face for the rest of the day.

The next class was Photography II, which is the only class that I actually liked. There was always something appealing to me in taking beautiful and artistic photographs that I couldn't mimic in paints or pastels. Instead of launching into a lecture about expectations or a syllabus, Mr. O'Keefe got the left side of our brains working by giving us an assignment: Take a photo of something from your house that shows who you are as a person. Usually with such an oddball task like this, the other students would shrug it off and just take a pic of anything they thought would be interesting, but not me.

The bell dismissed the class and I was still thinking of the assignment, trying to figure out what it was exactly that showed me off as a human being. What object was my soul? Hmm...

As I pondered that challenging question, I stopped by my locker to drop off my math and photo textbook before heading to my second-most dreaded class of the day, Chemistry. As I shoved the books in, I noticed that the girl beside me was looking at me. But not in a way that made her seem like she was repulsed by me, strangely enough.

Confused, I asked, "What? Is there something on my face?"

She giggled and stuck her hand out, "No. I'm Cat Whitfield, and you're Julian Gallagher."

I shook her hand back, just to be polite, though I was still a bit puzzled at why she was talking to me. She was a very attractive girl; blonde hair that reached down to her shoulders, pretty sparkling blue eyes, and a thin but healthy body with curves in all the right places. Cat could probably land any guy she wanted, so why was she talking to me?

"That would be me," I said.

She looked down at the ground, blush reaching her cheeks and said to me, "You remember me, right? Head cheerleader at all the football games?"

"Don't usually go to the games," I admitted.

"Oh," she squeezed out a little chuckle. "Look, I know your reputation around school."

I raised an eyebrow and asked, "What would that be?"

She blushed and continued, "That you're the loner guy. The guy that all he does is avoid social situations and writes crappy poetry."

Well, she's right about the loner status.

"But I don't really care what anyone else thinks," Cat added, making sure that I understood where she was coming from. "You're cute."

Cute? Was that what everyone was acting strange about? My loo--Oh, I get it now. This was a trick. Some ploy to get me to say something stupid and have the entire school laugh at me. This was all just a prank. Well, I wasn't going to fall for it.

"Really?" I tested the waters.

She nodded her head and waited for me to say something in response. "Huh," I grunted, putting my hand at the back of my head. "Usually people notice someone's attractive, say last year," I leaned on my locker after taking my hand away from my cranium. "Looks don't change, you know."

"Well," Cat started, taking her eyes off me. "There's this thing called...you know."

"Puberty," I helped her say the long word.

"Right. And there's all these changes, and--"

"But you didn't change from junior year in the looks department," I interrupted her.

She tilted her head, confused at what I was getting at. "But I thought you said didn't know who I was."

"No. I said I didn't go to any of the football games you cheerleaded for," I reminded her, pointing accusingly.

As if caught in a lie, Cat stuttered and turned on a dime, walking away briskly to retreat to her friends. I chuckled at how easy it was to drive people away, but at the same time, it was sort of a curse, really. I don't want to spend the rest of my life alone.

Or was that just my destiny?

I brushed that whole incident aside and just barely made it to Mr. Dalton's chemistry class on time. I found an open seat near the back, with no one else at my lab table. I thanked God silently for the lack of companionship for fear of the Cat situation repeating and turned my attention to the same boring lecture Mr. Dalton was yammering on about. This time, the instructor was talking not just of his expectations for us students, but also the safety precautions for the labs we'd be doing. Such gems like, "Don't use your mouth when using a pipet," or "Don't pick up broken glass with your bare hands," made the class laugh, but I was pretty confident that with these kids, common sense would be out the window and those rules would be broken.

Third period soon ended, and it was now the part of the day that I hated every single time. No matter how well my day was, if that was ever going to be possible, or how good it will be, lunch is always the time of day I hate. Because I'm always that idiot that walks around, trying to squeeze into a table with a close-knit group of friends.

I put my things away in my locker and slowly walked to the lunch line, trying to delay the inevitable embarrassment as freshman ran past me so they could get first dibs on crappy cafeteria food. Unfortunately, my efforts were futile as I was in and out of the line fast, and I now stood in the annex, holding a tray with milk, an apple, a salad, and a chicken sandwich on it, now faced with the humiliating task of trying to figure out where to sit.

My first option was a half-filled table to jocks and their dumb cheerleader girlfriends, the kind that blew pink bubble gum bubbles with their men as they talked about working out. I didn't even bother with that one, for fear that my I.Q. would drop at the very thought of trying to converse with them.

Option #2 was with the emo kids, or as I liked to call them, "goth-hacks." We've all seen them: black clothes, hair that gets into their eyes so they had to flip their head back to get it out of the way, and the way that they talked about how life was so awful and they wished that it was all over. And as much as I hated my life, I didn't hate it that much, so that was possible.

The last, and now only choice, was with a bunch of kids I'd never seen before. They must have been new, because even if I was the most unpopular kid in school, I would know exactly who they were. Because they were all absurdly beautiful.

There were five of them in total, two men and three women. Their bodies and faces looked completely different from each other, but they were all still filled with an obscene amount of pulchritude. They all had the palest white skin I'd ever seen from my life, as if they'd never stepped out into the sun, and dark eyes that would seer into your soul if you dared to look in them, with faint purplish circular bruises underneath their orbs. That was where all the similarities ended.

Sitting on one of the far ends was a tall, lanky guy, with curly brown hair, the color of caramel. Even though everyone at the table wasn't talking much, it was clear to me that he was the most outgoing of them, whispering quietly to spur on any conversation while using his hands in many gestures and mannerisms. He reminded me of those wacky class clowns that everyone had in their school, the kind that everyone got along with even if he pulled a prank on you.

Next to him was a short girl with brown hair, styled like Peter Pan. She didn't look androgynous though if you looked below the hairline. She had a great body underneath the little dress that she wore, and her face was very feminine, yet strong; the kind of face that you'd see in a fashion magazine for cosmetics. She seemed to have the same attitude as the lanky guy, though, as she was just as boisterous as he was, even if she was a little subdued compared with him.

On the other end of the table was the most handsome dude I'd ever seen in my life, and yes, I'm comfortable enough in my masculinity to say that. He looked just like one of those extremely handsome leading men from old Hollywood movies with black hair and eyes that would make any woman faint at the sight of them. He wasn't as tall as the other male, but he had more muscle on him. He didn't talk as much as the others, but he stared into the eyes of the girl beside him.

Or should I say woman? Out of all the girls, she had the biggest...ahem, assets out of them, and was proud to show off her body with a low-cut top. She had platinum blonde hair, though you could tell it wasn't dyed or anything with no roots in them. She was the hottest girl out of the girls, I'd admit. But from judging by her body language and only staring at the black-haired guy, she wouldn't give me the time of day, not like I really wanted to.

But out of the five beautiful teenagers, my eyes were on the girl in the center, staring down at the ground. She was probably the shyest one out of all of them, but with her astonishing looks, it was a surprise. She appeared to be about my height, though a little shorter, maybe around 5'8", with a slight and lithe body. With fiery red hair down past her shoulders, she was the most intriguing to me out of everyone, and I had no idea why.

I snapped out of my analytical gazing and took a step towards them. However, as soon as I took that first step, I had a sudden feeling of dread wash over me. What was this supposed to mean? I tried to brush that wave aside and stepped closer, making it just a few feet away before they all looked at me, wondering what I was doing, approaching them. The handsome guy looked at me with the most murderous gaze, it was crazy. I hadn't done anything to deserve that look.

Luckily, as if God wanted me to avoid them, a seat opened up a couple tables away as a group of freshmen got up. I looked away from the beautiful people and towards the empty table, relieved that I wouldn't have to awkwardly eat my lunch with them. To my surprise, I felt a huge relief, as if I dodged a bullet or something, which was pretty odd. I usually didn't care if I got into those kind of situations because what was the use of worrying about that?

So why was I starting to care in this case?

I sat in a seat at the empty table and stared at food, now not hungry after seeing the quintet. I sat with my back facing them and drank my milk, trying to absorb all the calcium in the delicious dairy product. All the while as I ate slowly, not really caring for the taste, I couldn't help but think about those new kids. Who were they? Where'd they come from? Why did I feel this sense of dread around them? So many questions popped up into my head, and I was becoming curious and curiouser by the minute, wanting to get to know the impossibly good-looking teenagers.

I turned around to find most of the cafeteria empty, and their table as well. I sighed, bummed out of the chance of possibly asking them those very questions and then some, and got up, carrying my tray of half-eaten food in my hands. I dumped the scraps away in the trash and placed the tray on top of the others in a neat stack, before I trudged my way to my locker for my remaining two classes of the day. I grabbed my folder, shut the locker door, and made my way to AP Literature.

Now compared with some of the other students in the school, I actually like to read, so this would be a great class for me to do nothing but curl up with a good book. However, this was school, so the books were going to be mind-numbingly awful. But I wasn't going to complain about that. Yet.

I walked into Mrs. Harper's class and took my seat near the back, but closest to the bookshelf. I fancied a glance and was pleasantly surprised to see not just Shakespeare or Hawthorne, but Salinger, Steinbeck, Joyce, and even Machiavelli. Sure these books were going to be extremely difficult to read, but it showed that this class had good taste when it comes to literature.

I didn't even notice when the seat next to me was filled when I turned away from the books to see the beautiful red-haired girl sitting beside me. It was strange, but knowing that she was only a few feet away from me made me feel electrified. She seemed so approachable, but I wasn't going to reach my hand out to her. That'd be too weird.

So instead, I looked away, shy enough to not let her notice me, even though I wanted her too. Mrs. Harper began her lecture and I tried my best to pay attention, but my I would gaze over to the girl's beautiful face, her fiery hair. No matter what I did, I was drawn to her, even if my brain earlier had warned me to move away from her and her family in the annex. Strange.

Mrs. Harper was done with her speech, so she started handing out the first book we would have to read, Edith Wharton's "Ethan Frome." I almost gagged since I'd already read it before and hated the novella, but held my critical tongue. She turned us loose to get started on the reading, but of course everyone started getting into discussion groups on what they did over the summer, which celebrity was hot, blah, blah, blah. I placed the thin book into my folder and glanced over to find the red-haired girl reading quietly, not looking up at anyone. It was surprising to me that she wouldn't be in the conversation of all the popular people. Usually they would be all on the new kid since Sault Ste. Marie was sort of a small city of around 16,000 residents. But not today.

Even though it's not something I often do, I took the plunge in trying to greet her to Michigan. "Hi," I said, trying to get her attention away from the world of Starkfield. "You new here?"

She looked up at my timidly, as if unsure how to respond to me. "Yes," she squeaked out, her voice light.

I could tell this conversation wasn't going to get anywhere with just herself, so I added, "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting your book-reading time." Not really, I thought. "I recognized you and your family from the cafeteria today."

"Oh," she replied, as if trying to remember who I was. "You were the one who almost sat with us," she said, with the slight hint of disappointment.

"Yeah, but I didn't want to intrude," I explained myself.

She gave a faint smile and looked at me straight on with her dark eyes, the color of coal. It was strange to see such dark eyes on a pale person, but I guess that was what made her beautiful. That she looked humanely impossible with her perfect looks, but yet here she was.

"I'm Julian Gallagher," I held out my hand out of respect, showing her that we meant her and her family good will in Sault Ste. Marie.

She hesitated before reaching towards me with her hand. Then when it looked like she was going to shake it, she didn't and pulled it back. "Sorry," she covered herself. "I'm a hypochondriac."

I put a smile on my face, faking the sudden disappointment I felt from not shaking her hand. "I understand."

"My name is Sophia Redmond," Sophia introduced herself, following my initial introduction.

"Sophia?" I repeated, trying to guage whether I liked that name or not. It suited her. Unusual in this day and age, but still beautiful and nothing to complain about. "Pretty name," I complimented.

"Thank you," she thanked me.

"No problem," I inadvertently cut the conversation off right there, not knowing any other way for this discussion to continue.

She nodded her head and returned to "Ethan Frome," while I just sat back and tried to come up with another question. It was weird that Sophia had me so flustered that I was stumbling over my thoughts. That never happens. Ever. But this...this was different than anything I'd ever experienced before. What could this mean?

Luckily, the bell interrupted my self-evaluation and now it was just one more class left in the day. For me it was Gym, and I was only taking that class because there was no classwork involved and it was an easy credit. Though as I was walking to my locker, throwing my stuff in haphazardly, I only thinking about Sophia. Her hair, her eyes. She intrigued me to no end, and it was when I had slammed the locker door shut after grabbing my gym clothes and backpack did I realize something.

I think I have a crush on her.

**Author's Note:** So, how was it? I know it's sort of long, but that's what happens when I'm left to my own devices, I guess. Hope you liked it, and I'll see if I can crank out another chapter. In the meantime, please review!


	2. High Noon

**Author's Note:** I've gotten no reviews and only a very small pinch of readers according to my traffic page. :( I'm sort of okay with it really; I'm still having fun writing this story, though I wish that I'd get some feedback from you guys. To make this story better, I need to know what needs to be improved upon. Help me, help you.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Twilight. There.

**Overcast**

02. High Noon

Gym class was horrible. Not just because I'm a horrible athlete, but also because of Sophia being in my head, bombarding me with images of her beauty. We were supposed to be playing a pick-up game of basketball, shirts versus skins. Thankfully I was on the shirts team; I'd be too embarassed to be on the skins team, and I know that's weird coming from a guy, but whatever.

I had the ball one time, and I was immediately called for traveling by the teacher, Mr. Mansfield, who just so happened to be the basketball coach for the men's varsity team. That taught my team not to pass me the ball afterwards, which Mr. Mansfield berated the team for not letting me participate. But I could care less, honestly.

The "class" was soon over, and we were all dismissed to go home. I changed out of my smelly clothes, threw them in my backpack, and headed out the doors into a chilly autumn afternoon.

Once I stepped out onto the cement, I saw her. Sophia, leaning against a tree, apparently waiting for her other beautiful brothers and sisters. I wanted to offer her a ride, but one, I didn't know where she lived, and two, that'd be weird of me to try to take someone home I didn't even know for a day.

I sighed and the wind picked up, gusting at my body, my short hair being blown backwards, as if I was in a wind tunnel. I tried to smooth it back down and out of the corner of my eye, see her tense up. She was also looking at me. But it was a strange look. One that I had never seen before.

It was confusing. She was glaring at me, hunger in her eyes for some strange reason. But this wasn't the person I had talked to earlier today. Sophia was shy, not one to give the evil eye at any passing pedestrian. I looked at her to find her brow furrowed, as if she was concentrating very hard on something I didn't know.

I looked back down, not wanting to see her shooting daggers with her eyes, and made my way to my car, trying to get out of the surrounding area. I opened the door, started the car, and drove off, going back home to where Harriet would be waiting for me. For me to take care if her, even if she was my mother. I tried to make the drive slow, putting it off as much as I could, but I still made it back home in a timely fashion. I sighed and walked into the house, unsure of what stunt Harriet was going to pull this time.

The house was silent when I entered it. I didn't hear the sound of the television running, the radio, nothing was on. Strange, usually this was the time of day she'd watch her dreadful soap operas.

I tiptoed to Harriet's bedroom and slowly turned the handle, to try to minimize the amount of noise I'd make just in case she was sleeping. I only opened the door just a crack when I heard noises from inside, the rustling of blankets and sheets. "Harr--" I started before stopping myself. "Mom?"

The same noise I heard earlier ceased, so I opened the door all the way to find Harriet sitting upright on the bed, her arms crossed and her hands lying on her knees. "Hello, son," she greeted, with a smile.

It didn't take a genius to know that something was off. I could just tell from that forced grin on her face. "What do you have there?" I asked, nearing the bed to find what I thought she was hiding.

"Nothing!" she said too loudly. "Nothing," she repeated, but softer.

I raised an eyebrow and looked behind her to find a rectangular bump underneath the linens. Just what I thought, damn it, Harriet. "Mom, we're supposed to be using our leftover money in emergencies."

"This was an emergency," Harriet tried to argue with me.

"Yeah?"

"I was thirsty," she spat out, emphasizing her "dry" throat. "There was nothing in the house."

"The faucet would have quenched your thirst," I pointed out to her, reaching for the bottle.

"No!" she screamed, grabbing my arm and trying to prevent me from taking away her alcohol. "It's mine!"

"Mom," I held her off, gritting my teeth into powder. "You can't have this with you. You can't have liquor in this household."

"You're not my father," Harriet snipped like a little kid. She grabbed the bottle and before I could even react, she popped the cap off and began to swig down the entire bottle.

After she had guzzled down a quarter of the depressant, I grabbed the base of the bottle and pulled it all away from her, spilling some in the process on the carpet. "Look what you did!" she shrieked in horror, as if she found a dead body in the bushes. "Gone, forever!"

I stared at her actions, incredulous at how it could have gotten this bad. Did I do something wrong? How could I make her realize that she's going to kill herself if I let this continue? She can't be an alcoholic for the rest of her life, or else it will be severely shortened unfortunately. What could I do?

I knew the reason why Harriet was self-destructive. Jack, my father. He had been the love of her life. At the beginning they were beautiful together when I looked through the worn album in the closet, and whenever I reminisced on my childhood. He was the greatest father. He'd take me on camping trips, even though I told him I detested them. They were always fun, and I loved spending time with my father. Whenever we went out in the grocery store, he'd walk beside Harriet, holding her hand down the aisle, still looking at each other with the look of smitten lovers. They were perfect for each other, and would never leave each other's side.

But Jack did leave. The sudden tumor in his brain that was inoperable, which he didn't cause on his own free will. He did nothing to deserve the slow, painful death that he had to suffer through. No one deserved to die the way he did. He died when I was twelve, with Harriet by his side, crying hysterically at losing him. It was difficult for me to accept that my father was gone, but for Harriet, it was different.

So Harriet turned to a vice, which was alcohol. She'd guzzle down any form of the drug she could get her hands on, and if she couldn't, she'd try to find some pills or narcotics to ease her pain. That horrible heartbreak that happened when he died. I believe that she blamed herself in some strange way for Jack's death, which was a ludicrous notion. She couldn't have changed anything to change it. And that's the part that killed her the most; that she could do nothing to stop the cancer. Watching your husband die in front of you...Tell me that can just move on from that.

I put the alcohol on the shelf and approached Harriet slowly, showing her that I wasn't a threat anymore to her. I spread out my arms and hugged her, trying my best to ease the pain from the proverbial hole in her chest. She tentatively wrapped her arms around me and sniffled, holding back the tears that begged to pour out of her eyes.

"It's going to be okay," I tried to comfort her as well as forgive her.

"Is it?" she broke away, looking into my eyes. "He's still never coming back."

"Yes," I said before choosing my next words delicately. "But you can try to live your life like he was still here. Don't self destruct. Jack wouldn't want that to happen to you."

At the very mention of his name, Harriet began to sob, memories flooding her head. She put her head in her hands and fell face down on the mattress, covering up her tears. I didn't know what I should do next, so I slowly grabbed the liquor bottle and walked out of the room, leaving her to deal with her emotions. I couldn't help her at all when she acted like this, I didn't know how. All I knew was that if my mother really wanted to change, she needed to forgive herself. And that was going to be a long-shot.

I poured the alcohol down the drain and placed the bottle in the recycling bin, trying to be eco-friendly even through Harriet's health-unfriendly ways. I decided to make plain ol' grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner, placing sliced tomatoes in them for the veggie. Those were Harriet's favorite, so she'd be happy about that, but not very.

As I sliced the tomatoes, my skull felt like all this pressure was on it, and I developed a really bad headache. Call it the stress from dealing with an addictive mother, whatever, this migraine was awful. I could barely see straight so I put the sharp knife down and took some medicine to try to curb the pain. It was going to take a while for the aspirin to kick in, so I slowly and deliberately fixed dinner, taking every move I made into consideration before executing it.

I plopped Harriet's grilled cheese sandwich on one of her favorite earthenware plates and opened her bedroom door to deliver it for her. "Hey, Mom," I said to show her that I was coming in. "Dinner."

She looked up at me with her big hazel eyes, the kind that were mostly blue with a ring of brown near the pupil, and took the food. "Thank you."

"No problem, Mom," I smiled. "Enjoy."

She nodded her head and nibbled at the crust. I knew she had something on her mind, and it was only a matter of time before she'd speak to me. "Julian?"

"Mmm hmm?" I acknowledged her.

"You know why I named you the way I did?" she asked before taking a big bite into the sandwich.

"No," I answered genuinely.

"Julian Alastair Gallagher," she spoke my full name, even though I hated my middle name. "Alastair came from your father. His middle name was Alastair, and so was his father's, and his father's father, and so on through the ages. It's a family heirloom, I guess."

That part of the story I actually didn't know about. I just thought that they wanted to have my initials spell out a word or phrase, like J.A.G. I felt a sense of pride almost when she told me about that. It was nice to know that I was upholding some family tradition.

"As for Julian," Harriet continued, looking away for a moment to stare at the stitching of the blanket. "I wanted a symbolic name. I bought every baby naming book you could imagine, and it was incredibly difficult to find one that would suit the little baby growing inside me. I knew I wanted you to be free. That is, the kind of person that would reach for their goals, and look into the sky rather than at the ground. I saw your name, and it basically derived from the Latin word for sky. It was the most beautiful name I'd ever seen, and I knew that was what you should be called."

"Cool," I breathed easy, now understanding the reason why my name was originated. "Thanks, Mom."

She smiled and finished her sandwich, handing me her plate. Even though I was acting as an expediter, I didn't mind. She was acting happier than she did just a few moments ago. I didn't see any problem later tonight with her. Tonight...

I washed and rinsed the used plate and left it on the rack to dry. I finally had a chance to eat my sandwich, even if it was cold after Harriet's lengthy revelation. It was okay though, no harm, no foul. After eating my meager dinner, I took a shower and changed into some clean clothes that stood for my pajamas. Night had just now fallen, and it was time to work on some of the homework I was assigned today, much to my dismay.

As I worked, my mind began to drift off like it usually did when I was doing something unpleasant like homework. The first thing that popped up in my head was of course Sophia. Her beautiful face almost seemed to haunt me, her dark dark eyes following me, even if I was just imagining them whenever I closed my eyes. I tried to shake them off, coming with a rational reason as to why I thought about her.

I knew I had a crush on her. That was a given, I mean, she was impossibly beautiful. Who wouldn't have a crush on her once they laid eyes on her, unless you were already completely devoted to someone else? Sophia was gorgeous and wouldn't give me the time of day otherwise.

On the other hand, she was shy. Maybe one of those people who was out of touch on what they actually looked like. Someone who was humble, and thought of themselves as plain. But she wasn't ordinary, she was extraordinary, you couldn't deny that. It still didn't fit though. How could someone that looked so beautiful be so shy and withdrawn? There had to be a reason why she acted like this.

The crush I had on Sophia felt like it was literally crushing me, twisting me, encompassing me, restricting me. I couldn't fathom any other thought other than one pertaining to that siren. I knew I had to do something to stop the way I thought about her, just so I could ease the pain if I ever did something stupid and she avoided me. That's what usually happened to someone I liked or one of my friends. I always did something to screw it up. Always.

I slammed my books shut and threw them in my backpack. I couldn't work on schoolwork with her running through my head. This was just getting to the point where my thoughts were being distracting. What was all this about? If this was just a crush, then it wouldn't be this bad. Would it? What if it was something...more?

No, that's crazy talk. You can't fall in love with a person at first glance, it doesn't work like that. You have to build relationships, not establish them within the first couple of minutes. But then why was I yearning to be with her right now, as much as that sounds stalkerish? Jesus, I'm starting to sound like a crazed Catholic schoolgirl or something.

I forced myself to not think of this issue anymore and went in the bathroom to grab some sleeping medication. I usually only took them if I absolutely could not sleep no matter how hard I tried, but I already knew ahead of time that there was no way I'd fall to sleep tonight without some assistance. I twisted off the cap and tossed back a couple pills into my open mouth, swallowing them dry. I knew that it'd take a while for the drugs to kick in, so I grabbed my books and finished the homework before I climbed into bed.

The drugs finally began to take hold, and my eyelids fell heavy almost immediately when my head hit the pillow. Sophia's eyes glared at me when I closed my eyes, and I fell asleep soon after.

There weren't any dreams whenever I took medication, or at least from what I remembered when I woke up the next morning to that sodding alarm clock. I yawned and shut the clock off before rubbing my eyes. I felt too tired, as if I was drained off all my physical energy. Maybe from having to take care of Harriet, but tired or not, I still had to go to that stupid high school. But at least Sophia will be there.

I scoffed at that statement jumping into my head, realizing that this day wasn't going to be any different from yesterday. I was still going to think about her, even though I didn't necessarily want to. This was starting to get kind of unhealthy.

I grabbed a clean shirt and pair of jeans from the closet and changed into them right there in my bedroom. I gathered my pajamas and backpack before heading downstairs to get ready for the day.

I threw my bag on the couch and entered the bathroom, throwing my peejay's in the hamper. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, did all the things you needed to do in the bathroom to get ready for school, and walked out, begrudgingly ready to head off to the learning establishment. I popped a couple pieces of wheat bread into the toaster and went to check in on Harriet to see if she was okay.

She was still sleeping when I opened up her bedroom door, snoring noisily as she always does. In her slumber, I could tell that she was dreaming about Jack, because she would smile every now and then. She'd giggle occasionally, and sometimes even say his name. I smiled at Harriet having the pleasant dream that she was having, and made my exit, grabbing my toast before I headed out the door.

The drive to school seemed a lot shorter, and I guess it was because I was cheerier than usual. Maybe it was seeing Harriet happy and that somehow transferred to me, hell I didn't know. I wasn't just going to throw this feeling away though. I finished my little breakfast and got out of the car with backpack in hand and walked towards the school.

In the front of the parking lot was the nicest looking car I'd ever seen in our high school parking lot; an Escalade. Not something that you'd see in rural upper peninsula Michigan. It was black, with the windows blackened just a little bit so you couldn't see inside of it. The door to it began to open, and I only needed to see the pale white skin on her ankle to know who's vehicle it belonged to.

Sophia climbed out, the wind blowing through her long red hair. She moved out of the way for her equally beautiful siblings and walked with them into the school, leaving a trail of awestruck teenage boys gawking at the expensive automobile in their wake. She was rich too? Looks and money together? This was not fair.

I ignored the teenage crowd and maneuvered my way into the school, dodging the envious guys. I made my way to my locker, got all my stuff needed for Calculus, and walked to class, already beginning to dread what Mr. Hammond would have up his sleeve today. Hopefully not calling me Julia like he did yesterday.

"Hey, Jules!" Mr. Hammond chuckled when I walked into the classroom. "Have a seat."

Great, that just took the wind out from under me.

"Julian," I grumbled back.

"Huh?" Mr. Hammond held a hand up to her ear, as if he would magically be able to hear better if he did.

"I was just laughing," I lied, my deceit evident on my face. "Ha ha."

"Oh," Mr. Hammond grinned, not catching my facial slip. "Everything's all in good fun, right?"

"Right," I bit my tongue for fear of me saying something that will land me in detention again.

Mr. Hammond kept up at his over-the-top polite attitude, always trying to stay on everyone's good side, even if he was directly making fun of them. I learn much better by reading, so I just read my textbook rather than listen to his uninformative lecture. The bell rang after what seemed like forever, and I went off to my remaining classes. I honestly can't say what I did in either of those other two classes, because I was overcome with anxiety while I was held in the classes. I didn't know why at first I was so anxious to be out of them, but I figured out soon after that it was because of Sophia Redmond. Lunch would come around, and maybe, just maybe, I'd get to sit at the table with her and her siblings.

Actually, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it would never happen, which made me even more nervous. I cursed inwardly at my brain being on the fritz, not being able to think about anything else.

I tried to rush down to the lunch line so I could see if I could sit with them or not, but it really didn't help that my class was on the far end of the school than the cafeteria was. I waited for what seemed like an eternity, and started grabbing random items haphazardly when I had my chance. I paid for the food, which consisted oddly enough of fish sticks, cottage cheese, milk, and mashed potatoes, and scoured the tables for them.

They were at the same table, looking exactly the same like they did yesterday. Same seats even. It was almost if I had taken a photograph of them earlier and was looking at it in front of my eyes. My body very much wanted to sit with Sophia, but it also wouldn't move, no matter how hard I tried.

I tentatively took a step forward, and saw her gaze at me from across the annex. Crap, she saw me. What was I supposed to do next? This was just like that scene in a western movie before the sheriff and outlaw would duel. I slowly stepped forward, the fear of being rejected festering and growing with every movement I made. It wasn't until I was about twenty feet away from them that I saw what her gaze actually looked like.

It was strange to say the least. From that first day in AP Lit, she struck me as shy, possibly weak. And her eyes were dark, almost black, with circles under them. But today, they were friendly and inviting. A complete one-eighty from the day prior. But it also wasn't what the eyes evoked that changed. Instead of the black eyes, they were instead a startling shade of green, like emeralds glistening. I swear to God, her eyes changed color. Overnight.

I must have imagined it, must have. People's eye color do not change. Unless they had contacts. But no optical instruments could have done her beautiful orbs justice. Then again, they did have enough money to achieve it...

I continued to approach her, ignoring the other Redmond's for the moment. When I was just a few feet away, I looked at the others to see that they were all staring at me, almost surprised at what I was doing. Except the black-haired guy, he still appeared to hate my guys for no discernible reason. I avoided his glare and focused my energy on succumbing the nerve and strength to say those few words that I wanted to say, to ask them if I could sit with them. Just so I could talk with Sophia.

For the first few seconds, my throat became very dry, the words getting caught inside. I must have looked like an idiot as I hesitated, as the lanky guy started chuckling to himself. I took a deep breath, and asked in the quietest voice possible, "Is it all right if I sit? Here." I added after leaving off the adverb, cursing myself in my mind for my moronic lapse.

The tall guy laughed and grinned at my expense, but motioned with his hand to the empty seat the farthest away from them. "Be our guest."

"Thanks," I eased up, trying to shake off my disastrous introduction. I sat down, taking care to nod my head, appreciating the kind gesture.

I wanted to talk to them as I grazed my food, not caring for the taste or even being very hungry. But I couldn't. That lump in my throat wouldn't go away, my nerves completely disarming me of my tongue. It was a strange feeling to say the least. I tried to not look at the Redmond's, but every now and then I'd glance up at Sophia's emerald eyes, getting starstruck by their beauty. She was the most beautiful and perfect person I'd ever seen in my life.

This stupid crush was going to be the death of me. I needed to get over it, and quickly. I forced myself to stare at my the table, fixated on the patterns of the grains in the wood. When that got boring, I looked above the beautiful family to the ceiling, counting the tiles and checking out the plethora of world flags we'd accumulated over the years from the foreign exchange students we had.

I was inspecting the Mongolian flag when I heard Sophia's familiar musical voice ask me, "How have you been, Julian?"

I snapped out of my inspection and to the Redmond's, all of them starting at me with their eyes. But the more they looked at me, the more I realized that some had changed from the last time I saw them. I mean, some of them were still coal black with bruises underneath them, but the lanky kid's eyes were brown like sienna. The short girl next to him had mesmerizing aqua-blue eyes that matched Sophia's emerald gaze. How could three of them manage to get such great contact lenses that allowed them flawless eyes?

"Fine," I answered after shaking my awe-struck gazes away from them. "How about you?"

"Delightful," she answered, a slight smile on her lips.

The ice finally broken, I felt like it was easier for me to speak, so I did. "Who's your family?"

She was about to speak before she was interrupted by the lanky kid's words. "Pleasure to meet you, Julian. I'm Silas, and this is Gwendolyn, Frederick, and Cecily," he introduced his family, motioning with his hand to his siblings.

"Nice to meet all of you," I nodded to all of them. Such old-fashioned names, kind of like Sophia's. It was nice to have a break from all the Ashley's and Brittany's in this school. "Where'd you guys live before coming here?" I asked.

"Montana," Gwendolyn answered, looking at me with her aqua-blue eyes. "Specifically from Missoula."

I nodded my head and said something corny, "Wow, from the west to the Midwest."

"Dorian and Helen wanted to raise us in another small town," Sophia explained, as if that would clarify any confusion I had. "I know, we're awfully boring."

Anything but. "Nah, I wouldn't say that," I tried to make her happy and not miserable at having to adapt to this new state. "The town is, but I'm sure you guys aren't."

Sophia raised an eyebrow and Frederick spoke to me with a gruff voice, "Trust us, we are."

I tensed at his words, and was perturbed by Frederick's statement. "Okay..." I trailed off.

"Don't listen to him," Silas tried to make me shrug Frederick's words out of my head. "He's always like this if anyone wants to be friends with his sister."

"We can hear you. You know that, right?" Cecily rolled her eyes, annoyed at Silas' consolation.

"I do know that," Silas grinned, not caring.

"I'll take note of it," I tapped my finger to my head, while actually making a mental note in my skull.

It was nice to be able to carry on a conversation with all these beautiful people. I would have thought it to be impossible for someone like me to even interact with people like them, but here I was, hamming it up with them. I felt like I...belonged there, as "clingy" as it may seem. I never really cared for being around anyone else in this school, and vice versa. But the Redmond's were different. Physically of course, but spiritually?

The bell unfortunately rang soon after, and they all began to get out of their seats, and I soon followed. Sophia waved off her siblings and joined me by my side, much to my astonishment. "Come with me to class," she ordered, smiling.

"All right," I dumped my scraps in the trash and put the tray away. "All aboard to AP Lit!"

She giggled and stayed by my side as we went to our lockers to grab our necessary folders and papers for class. I could feel the stares from behind me, the incredulous looks. I even heard a few scoffs and sly remarks that implied that of course _he_ would go out with _her_, whatever that meant. But that was just people jumping to conclusions, believing that two people, that just so happen to be of the opposite sex, cannot walk the halls without being an item.

I shook my head at the comments, which she noticed as we entered the classroom. "What was that about?"

"You didn't hear the other kids?" I asked her, tilting my head towards the bustling hallway.

"Barely," she said as we sat down. "What did they say?"

"They were making assumptions that we were 'together'," I said, even air-quoting it with my fingers.

She raised an eyebrow and asked, "Would you prefer if they didn't assume that we were together?"

I quickly tried to back-pedal with, "Well, it's just that they took us out of context. You know?"

"I understand," she fixed her hair, taking strands of her locks behind her ear. "You want people to get their facts in check, rather than them spread gossip that's unfounded."

"Exactly," I said, taking her explanation and running with it.

"That's seems quite guarded actually," she countered. "As if you don't want to be seen with me?"

There you go, Julian. You're losing it. Quick, say something. "It's not that. I don't care what anyone thinks of me."

"Then why does it now bother you?"

"Because they're jumping to conclusion about you," I answered truthfully. "They shouldn't make judgements of you without even meeting or getting to know you."

She smiled and the class finally started after the teacher rushed in, apparently running later than she expected from her lunch period. I looked over to Sophia occasionally, still stricken by her beauty. My mind began to wander as Mrs. Harper started to talk about the novella, "Ethan Frome" and thought about the comments in the hallway. I first thought that maybe the comments were negative because we looked "good," together, kind of like those famous celebrity couples that are only together because of their looks. But I completely disregarded that thought, because the truth of the matter was that I had an ugly mug. I was sure of it.

At least, that was the case from junior year and back, but now it was different. Cat from yesterday, the looks, the smirks. Could I have suddenly jumped the "hot" scale in the school, much to my horror? This stupid school was getting very confusing and was going to be the death of me, I was sure.

Mrs. Harper handed out an assignment for us to complete and made us partner up. I noticed some of the girls glancing at my direction, but immediately looking down when I caught their eye. I shook my head and Sophia spoke up with her musical voice, "Come on, partner. Let's work together."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sappy? Boring? I wouldn't know. It's all just exposition at this point. The complication will come up soon, just be patient. If you get the chance, please review and let me know how I'm doing! :)


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